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dragonlady7via http://ift.tt/1NsvXgu:
Yes! I love that post.
Which is a boring answer to post, so I’d answer privately, but that’s not going to work for an anon, so I’m going to pad this out with a fic snippet of the Keshian in question, so, hold onto your butts you poor saps. This is Iolo going home with Poe on a school break from the Academy, so they’re meant to be teenagers, and Iolo has a mild crush on Poe that they both *mostly* handle well. Iolo got space-sick on the last leg of the journey, plus it was dark when they landed, so this is his first real look at the place.
(And remember, in my head, Iolo is played by Rami Malek, so, imagine that as you will.)
The next morning Iolo’s headache was gone. He had slept for twelve solid hours, his chrono informed him. He didn’t really remember going to bed. Vague notions of Poe making him brush his teeth and physically hauling him around, but no concrete recollections.
He was in a bed in a dim room, and could smell humid green wet air, and could dimly hear a soft roar he eventually recognized as rain. Yavin 4, right, right. He rolled over. It was dim because the window’s shades were drawn, but he could see from the light at the edges that it was dim outside.
Rain for four days, Poe had said, the phrase echoing in Iolo’s memory. Poe. Iolo sat up on his elbow and looked around the room, blinking a little dazedly. It was a reasonably big room, and there were two beds in it, and he had the vague idea that Poe had slept in the other one.
The walls were covered with old, slightly-faded holoposters of starcraft. Mostly starfighters. That was… sort of hilariously, embarrassingly cliché. Iolo rolled out of bed, discovered that he had somehow gotten stripped down to his underwear, blushed a little thinking that Poe had maybe undressed him. He pulled up the blinds and looked out.
Jungle, bright green; he could see the dazzling array of infrared shades in the foliage that showed growing, dying, rotting, and more growing. Mostly growing. It was the most vibrant thing he’d ever seen, reflecting the sky back up in some wavelengths, absorbing others. It was hypnotizing, and he stared at it in fascination.
A clanking sound from down the hall tore him away from his rapt concentration, and he hastily dug in his duffel and found enough clothing to be decent. He found the fresher, just down the hall, and relieved himself. The little room was decorated strangely, with small painted panels on the walls in symbols he couldn’t recognize, and a bundle of dried leafy sticks hanging up in the corner of the room that it took him a moment to realize had to be a scented herb of some kind.
He washed his hands and his face and braved the kitchen, where he could hear the low sounds of voices.
“Papa,” Poe was saying, and went on in Iberican. Iolo caught the words lloviendo and, later, selva, which he thought meant raining and forest respectively.
Kes laughed, and answered him. Iolo made it as far as the doorway, just as Kes bent over Poe, who was sitting at the kitchen table, and kissed him on the top of his head. Poe laughed, and put his arms around his father’s waist and held on. Kes straightened up as Poe pulled him in, and stood with his hand on Poe’s head, tousling his hair.
Which– whoa– was a mass of tight, tousled curls. Iolo had never seen Poe’s hair look like that. He knew Poe fought with it sometimes in the humidity– he did too, a little– but he had no idea it was to this extent.
Kes noticed him then, and smiled broadly. He had a really friendly face, like and yet unlike Poe’s; Iolo hadn’t really taken him in, last night. He was big, long-legged and broad-shouldered in a way Poe really wasn’t; his hair was salt-and-pepper, close-cropped, and his beard was still black, very exactingly trimmed. He had dark, dark eyes, deeper-set than Poe’s and a little hooded.
Iolo swallowed hard. For Keshians, age wasn’t as significant a factor as for humans, and Poe’s dad was really hot. He hadn’t forseen that at all. “Hey,” he said.
“Good morning,” Kes said, and Poe yanked back a little, turning to look. Kes ruffled his hair again, and let him go.
“Hey,” Poe said. “How’s your head?”
“Better,” Iolo said. “Sorry I was such a lump!”
“I’m just glad you’re all right now,” Kes said. “Did you sleep well?”
Iolo nodded. “Like a, uh, asleep thing.”
Both Poe and Kes laughed at that, and Iolo realized they laughed the same way, and it was a thousand times more devastating in stereo. Oh fuck. He was in trouble.
Yes! I love that post.
Which is a boring answer to post, so I’d answer privately, but that’s not going to work for an anon, so I’m going to pad this out with a fic snippet of the Keshian in question, so, hold onto your butts you poor saps. This is Iolo going home with Poe on a school break from the Academy, so they’re meant to be teenagers, and Iolo has a mild crush on Poe that they both *mostly* handle well. Iolo got space-sick on the last leg of the journey, plus it was dark when they landed, so this is his first real look at the place.
(And remember, in my head, Iolo is played by Rami Malek, so, imagine that as you will.)
The next morning Iolo’s headache was gone. He had slept for twelve solid hours, his chrono informed him. He didn’t really remember going to bed. Vague notions of Poe making him brush his teeth and physically hauling him around, but no concrete recollections.
He was in a bed in a dim room, and could smell humid green wet air, and could dimly hear a soft roar he eventually recognized as rain. Yavin 4, right, right. He rolled over. It was dim because the window’s shades were drawn, but he could see from the light at the edges that it was dim outside.
Rain for four days, Poe had said, the phrase echoing in Iolo’s memory. Poe. Iolo sat up on his elbow and looked around the room, blinking a little dazedly. It was a reasonably big room, and there were two beds in it, and he had the vague idea that Poe had slept in the other one.
The walls were covered with old, slightly-faded holoposters of starcraft. Mostly starfighters. That was… sort of hilariously, embarrassingly cliché. Iolo rolled out of bed, discovered that he had somehow gotten stripped down to his underwear, blushed a little thinking that Poe had maybe undressed him. He pulled up the blinds and looked out.
Jungle, bright green; he could see the dazzling array of infrared shades in the foliage that showed growing, dying, rotting, and more growing. Mostly growing. It was the most vibrant thing he’d ever seen, reflecting the sky back up in some wavelengths, absorbing others. It was hypnotizing, and he stared at it in fascination.
A clanking sound from down the hall tore him away from his rapt concentration, and he hastily dug in his duffel and found enough clothing to be decent. He found the fresher, just down the hall, and relieved himself. The little room was decorated strangely, with small painted panels on the walls in symbols he couldn’t recognize, and a bundle of dried leafy sticks hanging up in the corner of the room that it took him a moment to realize had to be a scented herb of some kind.
He washed his hands and his face and braved the kitchen, where he could hear the low sounds of voices.
“Papa,” Poe was saying, and went on in Iberican. Iolo caught the words lloviendo and, later, selva, which he thought meant raining and forest respectively.
Kes laughed, and answered him. Iolo made it as far as the doorway, just as Kes bent over Poe, who was sitting at the kitchen table, and kissed him on the top of his head. Poe laughed, and put his arms around his father’s waist and held on. Kes straightened up as Poe pulled him in, and stood with his hand on Poe’s head, tousling his hair.
Which– whoa– was a mass of tight, tousled curls. Iolo had never seen Poe’s hair look like that. He knew Poe fought with it sometimes in the humidity– he did too, a little– but he had no idea it was to this extent.
Kes noticed him then, and smiled broadly. He had a really friendly face, like and yet unlike Poe’s; Iolo hadn’t really taken him in, last night. He was big, long-legged and broad-shouldered in a way Poe really wasn’t; his hair was salt-and-pepper, close-cropped, and his beard was still black, very exactingly trimmed. He had dark, dark eyes, deeper-set than Poe’s and a little hooded.
Iolo swallowed hard. For Keshians, age wasn’t as significant a factor as for humans, and Poe’s dad was really hot. He hadn’t forseen that at all. “Hey,” he said.
“Good morning,” Kes said, and Poe yanked back a little, turning to look. Kes ruffled his hair again, and let him go.
“Hey,” Poe said. “How’s your head?”
“Better,” Iolo said. “Sorry I was such a lump!”
“I’m just glad you’re all right now,” Kes said. “Did you sleep well?”
Iolo nodded. “Like a, uh, asleep thing.”
Both Poe and Kes laughed at that, and Iolo realized they laughed the same way, and it was a thousand times more devastating in stereo. Oh fuck. He was in trouble.
